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Updated: May 7, 2025
The outer door swung wide, letting in a brassy clangour of bugles and a roll of drums, which softened when the door closed with a snap. It opened again abruptly, and a thin, gray-garbed figure came in, hesitated, and Celia turned, staring through her tears: "Miss Lynden!" she exclaimed. "Is Ailsa here?" Berkley sat up and leaned forward, looking at her intently from the mass of bandages.
Berkley ordered at the same time a tub of cold water, in which he seated himself, with his coat on, and a bed-quilt thrown round his knees. Thus he sat for an hour; ate his breakfast, and smoked a pipe, and laughed a good deal. He then went to bed and slept till dinner time. Meanwhile Flemming sat in his chamber and read.
Wye yawned, thrust his strong, thin hands into his trousers pockets, and looked stupidly at the ceiling. "I wish to heaven they'd start our battery," he said vacantly. "I'm that sick of Hamilton!" Casson grumbled again, settling his debts with Berkley. "Everybody has the devil's own luck except the poor God-forsaken cavalry.
And on that day the 7th Regiment returned to garrison the city, and the anxious city cheered its return, and people slept more soundly for it, though all day long the streets echoed with the music of troops departing, and of regiments parading for a last inspection before the last good-byes were said. Berkley saw some of this from his window.
Since I have known who you are, I I have had you watched. I have hesitated a long while. My brokers have watched you for a year, now; my attorneys for much longer. To-day you stand in need of me, if ever you have stood in need of anybody. I take the chance that you have that claim on me; I offer to receive you, provide for you. That is all, Berkley. Now you know everything." "Who else knows?"
'The new lives of clergymen of the Church of England, in the same four volumes, are as follows: John Balguy, Edward Bentham, George Berkley Bishop of Cloyne, William Berriman, Thomas Birch, William Borlase, Thomas Bott, James Bradley, Thomas Broughton, John Brown, John Burton, Joseph Butler Bishop of Durham, Thomas Carte, Edmund Castell, Edmund Chishull, Charles Churchill, William Clarke, Robert Clayton Bishop of Clogher, John Conybeare Bishop of Bristol, George Costard, and Samuel Croxall.
"This is no accident, but God's Providence, which brought us together, to punish me for my sins." "O, my friend," interrupted Berkley, "if you see the finger of Providence so distinctly in every act of your life, you will end by thinking yourself an Apostle and Envoy Extraordinary. I see nothing so very uncommon in what has happened to you." "What! not when our souls are so akin to each other!
I don't count myself." "I count it bitterly." "You need not. . . . It was only my mother " "I know, my boy. The blade of justice is double-edged. No mortal can wield it safely; only He who forged it. . . . I have never ceased to love your mother." Berkley's face became ashen. Colonel Arran said: "Is there punishment more terrible than that for any man?" Presently Berkley drew his chair closer.
A knock came at the door, and my emotions received a chill: my visitor could be none but Berkley, in whose face I should see a reminder that I owed him for my car-fare. In place of frigid politeness, however, the diplomatist wore all that he knew of good-fellowship and Bohemianism. He was now clad in tourists' plaid, and stood upon soles half an inch thick a true Englishman on his travels.
Orderlies brought water in artillery buckets; ward-masters passed swiftly to and fro; a soldier stood by a pile of severed limbs passing out bandages to assistants who swarmed around, scurrying hither and thither under the quiet orders of the medical directors. A stretcher was brought; Colonel Arran opened his heavy lids as they placed him in it. His eyes summoned Berkley.
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